


Finale Fix It

by Trogdor19



Series: New and Improved S4 [6]
Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Drama & Romance, Engagement, Established Relationship, F/M, Fix-It, Love, Love Confessions, Romance, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23499844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trogdor19/pseuds/Trogdor19
Summary: The last episode of Veronica Mars S4—the way I would have written it. Wedding and all. Friendships will be mended, scenes will be lengthened, and Logan will get the happy ending he deserved.
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Series: New and Improved S4 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646875
Comments: 123
Kudos: 146





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: This fic is dedicated to LV_4_EVA because it’s not fair, and he should have lived. All the love and happy fics to you, my dear.
> 
> Reminder that all my S4 fix its are independent of each other- so if they make up and get engaged in an earlier fix it, this starts back where the canon show had them.
> 
> For this episode, I liked the existing scenes, but none of them had the emotional depth that would have truly satisfied me. So I extended and changed a lot of the canon scenes for this one, including adding a few scenes of my own that I felt would have left fewer loose ends and frankly, left Veronica’s karma in better shape. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> This fic will have four chapters, and the honeymoon chapters will be posted separately, as a story called “Never Enough Honeymoon.”

[Voicemail to Veronica Mars]

“Hey, it’s Logan. It’s my last chance to call before I have to leave my phone in my locker on base. I know it’s late and your phone’s probably off, but I just had a thought… *low chuckle*

You know what’s weird about this whole proposal thing? You haven’t accused me of being the bomber yet. I hate sex offenders probably even more than you do, and spring breakers, and I have a knowledge of explosives, but yet not a wisp of suspicion in sight. *sound of a smirk in his voice * It just might be that you’re starting to trust me, Veronica Mars…

Do you suspect Nicole yet, by the way? Because I know how much you want a new friend who’s not so much of a baby-loving yuppie like Wallace, or traveling for work all the time like Mac, and she really is just your style of badass. Anyway, spoiler alert, Nicole’s not the bomber. It’s probably okay to think she’s cool. *noises and an intercom in the background * Hey, they’re calling my flight. I love you. Stay safe.”

#

Veronica dragged herself through the door, feeling every bruise and that familiar post-adrenaline sag that always left her throat feeling so empty. Or maybe that was just the Logan-gone feeling. It was always the worst when she first came through the door. It’s why he’d insisted on getting her a dog after his first deployment, even though he knew nothing about caring for pets and at first, had held the little puppy like it was a glass grenade. She’d never told him how much she hated coming home to an empty house, but somehow he’d known.

Now, she sank to her knees, rubbing her hands across the softest fur on Pony’s ears. “Hey, Pony,” she breathed, trying not to think about the sound of her gun clicking on an empty chamber. Trying not to think about where Logan was, and if anyone was shooting at him. He was so prepared, her GI Joe + James Bond of a boyfriend. He’d have extra clips of ammo for sure, and more of them than she’d had.

She’d give anything, _anything_ for him to be here right now. Even if he was telling her to go to therapy or asking her to take some time off, or even asking her that worst, most terrible question.

_What would you do if I wasn’t here, if your dad wasn’t here?_

Well, she was about to find out, wasn’t she? Because her dad was retiring and Logan…Logan was probably halfway across the globe right now.

“Hey…” his gentle voice seemed to come straight out of her fantasies, and when she looked up, Logan was leaning a muscular shoulder against the hallway wall, a proud light in his smile that she’d never seen before he joined the Navy. “Notice any international hot spots back down to room temperature? That was _me_.” He hooked a thumb at his chest and she remembered the radio on the way back.

A near crisis in Mogadishu, something about how it could have gone so badly but hadn’t.

“You’re _home_.” The words rushed out of her, like all the relief couldn’t fit inside her body at once.

Her shoulders sagged and when she rose to run to him, she could suddenly feel every bruise and sore muscle and she could barely stagger the few steps across the room. He caught her elbows and pulled her into a hug, and she found that secret nook beneath the curve of his jaw where she could hide her face and just breathe him in.

“You okay?” He pulled back, his eyes sweeping her face. She felt wrecked and she had no idea how she must look.

“I am now,” she breathed.

Jesus, how had she gotten so lucky as to even get to come back home again? And now he was _here_ , right here like she’d wished him into existence. Warm and clean and his hands so big and steady on her back. She kissed him, her hands coming up to clutch the back of his head.

Everything felt so sharp and clear: the corded muscles in his neck, the soft bristles of his short hair, his lips half-smiling against hers and the heat of his tongue sweeping into her mouth. She kissed him again, deeper, and the more she wanted, the better it got until her whole face was wrenched with how much she could feel.

Sometimes, she survived on quick little kisses and hard fast fucks for weeks at a time. It was easier, sometimes, than the way Logan could crack her chest wide open when he made slow, powerful love to her. Those days, it took her hours to put herself back together. It always did, when she let herself really be with him like this. But right now, it was like his presence was welling up like a spring and she needed to drink and drink and drink. She needed—

Veronica pulled back. “You still have that ring?”

It was the only thing that felt like enough. The only thing big enough, permanent enough. It wasn’t enough to touch him or even hold him. She needed to keep him. To make him feel as safe as she’d felt when she heard his voice and looked up.

His face changed, the corner of his lips pulling up in a curl of pure joy before hesitation swept in.

“I do,” he said softly, questioningly. Like he was afraid of what she might say next.

And her heart clutched, to hear him say that to her, his eyes all soft and dark and only seeing her. He meant it, even now, even answering a completely different question. She could feel his vow to her like it already existed.

“Look at that,” she teased, because otherwise she was going to cry. “You already know your lines.” But she almost couldn’t pull off the lightness because she couldn’t stop staring at him. Seeing his hard jaw and lean face as if for the first time. Like she’d only been able to see him lately from a distance somehow, and now she finally had the real thing.

He picked her up and her legs went around his waist automatically. “Why now?”

“I had a moment of clarity.” It was all she needed to say, because there had never been anything else standing in her way but her own confusion. It was never that she didn’t love him enough. She clutched the back of his head, his neck, his back…like she needed to feel each part of him again— _her_ Logan—to believe she was really getting a chance to keep him.

She wrapped herself up tight all around him and his arms came around her back, holding her just as hard as he carried them down the hall and into the bedroom.

But it hurt, feeling this good, the guilt of that awful feeling when she woke up this morning still dogging her. She couldn’t stand it, the way his face would have looked if the dream had been true and she’d had to tell him she’d cheated on him.

Commitment, to her, hadn’t ever been something she thought much about. Logan was all she wanted: most of the men she met were disgusting pigs, so she’d never had to really consider what she’d do if she started to want another man.

It was so sharp, so vivid, the depth of this new realization, that she couldn’t help but want to explain it to him. She wondered if he’d ever felt that, when he was gone somewhere in the world, beautiful women probably throwing themselves at him like they always did.

He laid her down on the bed, brushing soft kisses over her cheekbones and temple in between long, intimate kisses to her mouth. Their tongues sweeping deep together with no preamble needed because they knew each other so well.

“Logan, I want to tell you something.”

He twitched and she saw the nervousness in his eyes when he pulled back a little, replaced a second later with steadiness. _Therapy Logan, nothing shakes him._ “Okay,” he agreed, like however horrible it was, it was already forgiven.

She clutched his neck, kissed him hard again just to feel his lips against hers. She wanted, for the first time in a long time, for him to know her secrets.

“While you were gone, Leo and I…”

She could feel it when he stopped breathing, his chest going still. He rolled off her and onto his back, but he didn’t try and stop her.

Veronica moved onto her side, propping her head up so she could see him. She laid her hand over his chest, where his heart was pumping away even though his lungs had gone still. “Shhh, it’s okay, nothing happened. I want to be honest with you about this, but we’re okay, all right?” she murmured.

His hand came up, and covered hers, but his gaze stayed on the ceiling. His throat worked in a silent swallow.

“There’s still a spark there, on both our sides,” she said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been attracted to anyone but you, and I know you could see it. I like working cases with him, he can banter with me at least half your speed, there’s a draw there to…want to flirt, I guess.”

“This is not my favorite conversation.”

She edged a little closer to him, tucking her body all the way down his side. “The point is, I didn’t want it. Even though on paper, he and I are kind of perfect. A cute guy in the FBI who would understand my job—”

“Like an intelligence operative _doesn’t_?”

“Would you stop interrupting? I’m on your side, Logan. I want to tell you this _because_ I’m on your side.” She nudged him with a knee, a little smile finding her face. “I’m hashtag Team Logan, all the way.”

The corner of his lips kicked up, and he finally looked over at her. “I guess I’m just worried about why you’re telling me this now. Like maybe you said you wanted that ring—” He cleared his throat. “Because something happened and you feel guilty. Or because you’re afraid something might happen, and you want to stop yourself. Because I have to tell you, Veronica… In the Navy, I’m around a lot of guys who are away from their wives for a long time and it’s not the ring that keeps them faithful, if anything does.” He paused. “It’s their hearts. Their commitment to each other. Nothing else does it.”

“I know.” She rubbed her hand over his chest in tiny circles, his palm warming her knuckles as his hand moved along with hers. “I’m saying in a lot of ways, Leo would be a great choice for me, and I don’t care. All I wanted was for you to be home, and twirling me around the kitchen, and nagging me to go to therapy, and sneaking vegetables onto my plate. Trust me, Logan, you’re gone a lot. If I wanted to cheat, I’d have plenty of opportunities.”

“I know.” He tucked a piece of hair back behind her ear. “Leo’s the first time I’ve been worried in a while.”

“It was weird, seeing another guy I could be attracted to after all this time, because it just…I don’t know, I guess I didn’t want to go there. Even if you’d have never found out, I didn’t want to go there. I realized that I couldn’t be more committed to you. And if you left me, I _couldn’t_ be more devastated. Being married isn’t going to make either of those things any more or less true. I don’t know why I’ve been resisting it.”

“So, you’re already committed to me.” He gave her the tiniest of smiles, his eyes almost shy. “Was that your moment of clarity?”

“That was the start of it. And then—” She took a breath. “Don’t freak out, okay? I’m fine. I made it out. But we went to get the bomber today, and these two guys from a Mexican drug cartel showed up. Suddenly bullets were flying every which way and Dad…forgot to load his gun.”

Logan surged to sitting, swearing harshly.

“I know, trust me, I know. And I’d already blown most of my bullets. When I was busy shooting, he went out the door, exposing himself to try and get to his bullets in the car. Thank God for all those times you made me go to the range and get over my fear of guns.” She gave him a tight smile. “Though I clearly need to go back because I went through both my clips and didn’t hit a thing. When my gun clicked empty, dad was outside with them and they still had plenty of ammo.”

He reached for her hands, gripping so hard they hurt. She pulled herself to sitting and pushed herself to finish the story because she knew how hard it was to hear this stuff. Probably the only reason she hadn’t died of a heart attack yet was that all of Logan’s close calls were classified. She could only read them in the injuries he came home with. The unnamed officers in the news stories she followed religiously the second he left town.

“All I could find was this dull ass kitchen knife. I…” She choked, her voice breaking, “I almost didn’t go out there, because I knew if I did, I was never going to see you again.” He pulled her into his arms.

“Veronica. _God_.”

“But my dad was out there,” she whispered shakily, “and I didn’t want to die cowering in a house, waiting for them to come to me. So, I went to them, knowing I didn’t have a chance in hell of living through it, that my whole life…that was it. That was all the second chances I was ever going to get. If Weevil hadn’t come…”

“Weevil? I thought you burned that bridge and salted the ashes.”

“I did. He came anyway.”

Logan’s arms tightened around her, his biceps almost bruising her where they swelled and squeezed her with the strength of his hold. But his hands were gentle where they swept the length of her back.

“When I got home the other day and you were gone— I didn’t even get to talk to you first. Last thing I said to you was something stupid. I went out to meet my death with a dull kitchen knife, choking on my own regrets. I never want to feel like that again.” She pulled back. “I’m sorry I made you feel like that. That I sent you off with just my voicemail to talk to, that I’ve been so weird, that I broke your heart when you took that crazy brave risk to ask me—”

“You didn’t break my heart.” He kissed her, cupped her face. “Because you didn’t leave me. I…I planned on waiting until right before I left again, actually. I knew you’d need space to think it over, to not be so scared you’d run. But I was so fucking happy to see you again I just couldn’t wait another day.”

She clutched him, her eyes falling closed as tears squeezed silently out onto his shoulder. “I get it.” She didn’t even recognize her own voice, it was so wretched. “Today, I got it. I shouldn’t have ever waited so long. I thought…I thought we were rock solid, and I never wanted anyone but you. Marriage seemed like a thing other people did, as a prelude to alimony and hating each other. But I—” Her nails dug into his back and she had to make an effort to loosen her hands. “I wanted more, today. When I thought I was dying, I wanted to be tied to you in every way I could. To be as deep in as we could get. I regretted every stupid piece of distance between us. And when I had somebody to really be scared of, I realized how safe I’ve been, here with you. Even when you’re scaring the shit out of me.”

“Scaring you?” He pulled back, tracing her cheek, then his eyes changed as he figured it out. “By pushing. Asking you to talk about the parts of yourself you don’t like. About stuff you want to forget.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a fucking baby about all that. I’m not…good at it. But I should have tried harder. You deserve that.”

He kissed her nose, very softly. “Did you mean it? About the ring? Because it’s okay if you didn’t. You get a free pass to take it back. Near death experience and all.”

Her throat ached that even now, she’d made him so uncertain about them. About her commitment to him.

“I meant it.”

He got up and crossed the room, dug in the bag he’d brought with him when he left town. And when he turned around, he looked afraid—steady Therapy Logan nowhere in sight. But he dropped to one knee anyway.

“No.”

He twitched at the sound of the word and his eyes shuttered. She could see his legs tense to rise back up to his feet, but before he could, she slid off the bed and was on her knees before him, taking the ring out of his hands.

“Please, Logan,” she said. “Please marry me. I can’t stand the thought of being with anybody else.”

His eyebrows shocked up and light spread through his face. “Damn, Mars. I didn’t know you had it in you to be romantic.”

“It’s the diamonds.” She stuffed the ring on her finger without looking at it. “You know I’m a sucker for cash money.”

He smirked. “You should at least take a peek and make sure you like the damn thing. I must have looked at three thousand of them, all over the world, trying to find one that looked _Veronica_ enough.”

“Mmm, I like the accessories it comes with.” She caught him around the back of the neck and pulled him into her, but he was holding back in the kiss, like he was distracted. She sighed. “Fine, I’m looking, I’m looking.”

She glanced down at the ring. The first time she found it in his bag, she’d been so shocked by the significance of it that she hadn’t properly taken it in. But now… The middle stone was a sharp marquis cut, spokes of diamonds shooting up and out to each side of the main stone. Sharp and symmetrical, like the top peak of a snowflake. A little avant garde, a little racy. She’d never seen anything like it, and there was a twist of platinum flouncing out to each side of the diamonds that looked like a dare. Something of the curve suggested a cocked, beckoning finger, a sly smile.

She laughed. “Damn. That _is_ the most Veronica ring ever.”

He grinned. “Right? Found it in Switzerland. Shit, forget I said that. I definitely haven’t been to Switzerland.”

“Uh huh. Sure you haven’t, Mr. Super Spy.” She pulled him back up to his feet, and skimmed off her shirt. “Nice of you to save the world so quickly this time so you could come home and fuck me silly.”

“Turns out I’m deeply motivated by sex with a beautiful woman.” He shrugged. “Too bad we weren’t around during the Cold War. I think I could have warmed the whole thing right up if you’d sent me one lingerie selfie for motivation.”

She snorted. “If you didn’t like lingerie so much in pictures, I would assume you hated the stuff. You never let me get all the way to the closet to put it on before you get all carried away.”

“Mmm, give me five or ten years of being old married folks. Maybe then I’ll slow down enough to actually let you put _on_ the red lace before I rip it off you. Right now…” He dove to her neck, nibbling that little spot that always made her squirm. “You get me too hot just at the thought of it to wait for you to put it on your body.”

“How hot are you, exactly?” She slid a hand down his body and her eyebrows bounced up at the bulge in the front of his pants. “Whew, two hours of oral sex hot. Did you start pre-gaming without me?” She’d come in more than once to find him naked, slowly stroking his fist down his length, locking eyes with her like he’d been lazily playing for hours, just waiting for her to come home so he could unleash all that pent-up tension on her.

And good God, had he.

“Nope, no pre-game,” he said. “Turns out diamonds do it for me, too.”

He popped her bra, still faster on the clasp than even she was, after all these years. She had to wrestle his shirt off him while his mouth was busy on her breasts, and then she sort of fell backward, letting him kiss the pants all the way down her legs.

“Hug me again,” he whispered, shoving his jeans down off his hips. “Like you did when you came home.”

Her throat tightened that he needed that comfort today as much as she did, and she rose up on her knees, naked on the bed, and reached out her arms for him. He caught her and she latched on to him, arms and legs hugging his lean, muscular body like she fit perfectly that way. He dipped his hips and entered her without ever letting go. The thick, wet slide of him made her groan and he held her eyes as he surged into her, her breath catching with every stroke. Then he cradled her head, tucking it into his neck as he hugged his chin down over her back.

His arms hugged around her as if he needed comfort, and his thrusts went slow and rocking and sweet. They spread tingles inside her like fingertips trailing down her spine and she squeezed her eyes shut.

All those guys, all those years. Nobody got to her like Logan. The way he never held back. The way her body had always seemed to know his, even when they were just kids. That very first kiss, like a bolt of _Holy fuck, it can be like THIS?_

She snuck kisses against his neck, her legs tightening.

“Lean back,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

She tilted her weight back and he caught her easily, angling her so the next thrust caught her with a dazzle of pleasure. “ _God_ ,” she gasped.

With other guys, in college and law school, there was always that feeling of desperation when they entered her. Because she’d be turned on but she already knew they weren’t going to do it right to give her what she needed. Always too fast or too slow. Not deep enough, never hitting the right spot more than once. But with Logan, as soon as he came into her, he knew exactly where to go. How to rake the head of his cock over every place she needed it. Unerringly finding just the right speed, hitting deep and hard when she needed it. Listening to her breaths so he knew when he’d slid out of the right angle and needed to adjust. She could just relax, because he’d fuck her boneless in exactly the way she needed it.

It was the most shameful, secret part about her dream, actually. The lover in her dream looked like Leo, but he fucked like Logan. The exact size and shape of her boyfriend’s hard cock, the angles only he ever found. The ways only he ever knew to touch her. It was like her brain wanted something safer than all the intense emotions and guilt and fear tied up with Logan, but she still didn’t want anyone else’s hands on her body. She’d felt sick when she woke up.

His thrusts slowed. “Are you okay? Wrong position?”

She hugged him tighter with her legs. “I’m just so glad you’re home.”

“Come here, sweetheart.” He laid her down on the bed and kissed his way back into her mouth, shifting her until he could come into her body so deeply all she could do was cry out in broken gasps of air until he had her coming so hard it felt like she was wringing his cock dry.

Afterward, he lay behind her, her whole body tucked back against his chest while he played with her ring.

“I don’t want to wait,” she said. “Not with this bomber on the loose, not with you maybe getting called up again before we can plan a wedding.” She snuggled her head in under his chin. “I want it to be permanent.”

He didn’t respond, and after a second, she shifted.

“Change your mind already, champ?” She stretched out her legs and tickled her toes across the top of his foot. “They do feel a little chilly…”

“Never.” He kissed the top of her head. “It’s just…”

“That’s not my favorite start to a wedding date conversation. I thought I was supposed to be the reluctant one, here.”

“Are you rushing into this because you’re afraid you’ll change your mind?” His voice was hushed.

She rolled over, found his eyes in the shadowy bedroom. “No.” She said it firmly, waiting to make sure he believed her. “I wasted so much time. Years. Continents. Today, when I was about to die, I finally got why this was so important to you. If something happens to one of us, I want to know we didn’t hold anything back, in the time we had left.”

His eyes went dark and liquid and he nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“I love you,” she whispered. “More than anything.”

And he rolled her right back into his arms and kissed her until her whole body started to tingle. When they were both out of breath, he pulled away to murmur, “I love you, too.”

She hesitated. “Enough to do me a favor? Because I have a few things I need to set right before the wedding.”


	2. Reparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: We get an extra update this week, courtesy of the rain storm that’s delaying the start of my biology job. These are scenes I added to the finale, because it needed them.

Veronica plucked at the rivets on her bag as Logan pulled their borrowed truck up alongside the curb. “You sure you want to do this right now?” he asked.

“Bombers to catch, hotties to marry, ticking clocks in every direction.” She smiled and the skin on her neck felt too tight. “But I’ve put off my friends for my cases too many times. Thanks for coming along to do the heavy lifting later.”

“Yeah, well, as someone who’s done a lot of emotional heavy lifting lately, can I give you a piece of advice?”

She was pretty sure she did not want to hear this advice. She nodded anyway, because that probably meant she needed it.

“Grovel a little more than you want to.” He reached over and squeezed her hand, and she could tell by his tone that he knew how much she was going to hate that. “If you want him back in your life, that’s what it’s going to take.”

“Is that a hint that I need to grovel more with you?”

“God no.” Logan shuddered. “Can’t imagine a bigger turn off than Veronica Mars groveling.” He flicked his hands like he was shaking water off them. “Think it’d make me feel dirty.”

“Hmm, you never seemed to mind feeling dirty before.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “Stop stalling. Cowboy up, Mars.”

“It’s so not a good sign that you only say that on the worst days of my life.” She sighed. “If you hear gunshots, come in after me.”

“And if I hear screaming?” He cocked his head. “Should I rescue Weevil?”

She grinned. “If he’s screaming, leave him to me.”

He snapped off a lazy salute that was halfway between High School Detention Logan and Naval Officer Logan, and Veronica slammed the truck door before he could notice how it got her nipples hard.

She checked the safety on the dual pistols she had under her jacket, then the extra clips in her pocket, and her bag. Logan was packing, too. She may have only had one Get Out of Death Free card with Weevil, and his hoodlums weren’t her biggest fans. Then she let out a breath and strolled onto the yard of the chop shop like she hadn’t almost been raped, beaten, and robbed there barely a few days ago. _Be cool, Soda Pop._

She didn’t believe in showing fear, especially not to gang members. _Double_ especially not to pipsqueak gang members.

Weevil was under the hood of a Dodge out front, doing something that looked suspiciously like honest work. In the interest of diplomacy, she didn’t say that out loud. Instead, she stood back, noting the flick of his long eyelashes that had registered her presence and ignored it.

“I don’t much like admitting when I’m wrong,” she said.

He turned at that, wiped his hands on a rag. “I ain’t never been too fond of it, either. But you were right about those rich assholes. They used me to get what they wanted on the boardwalk and then they left me, left all of us, with no damn work. And I don’t know what scheme they got cooked up, but I don’t think it ends with my rent going down.”

“No,” she said quietly. “It doesn’t. But I should have helped you instead of being an asshole about it. I’ve got pride, too. I know how it works.” She looked away, turned her back on him because she needed a minute.

She knew it was safe to do it, even now. And they understood each other well enough that he held the silence until she could force the words up out of her throat.

“We worked really hard on that lawsuit. I even got my hopes up, and you’d think I’d know better than to do that by now.” She let out a dry scoff of a laugh that quieted quickly. And made herself turn back around.

 _Grovel more._ Logan was waiting in the car. Her backup and her better half, and she was a conservative enough gambler to know that the few pennies she had left? She should bet them on his advice, not her own instincts.

She met Weevil’s eyes. “But the truth was, one lawsuit was never going to clean up everything that’s wrong with this town. We have an honest sheriff now, even if she does have a phobia about PIs. And we still have plenty of crime. What I’m saying is, I get taking care of your people. My…” It took her a minute to swallow and start over. “My dad got sick recently. Needed better doctors than we could afford.” She set her jaw, kept holding his eyes. “I get doing what you have to do for money.”

He nodded. Just once.

She let out a breath. Quietly, so he wouldn’t see. “Thank you for having my back, Weevs. Even when I didn’t have yours.”

“I’d rather that road ran both ways, V.”

“I would, too.” She held out her hand first, and he slapped his palm into hers with no hesitation, and shook it firmly. Then hauled her in to pound her back in the one-armed hug she’d seen him give all his guys. It rattled her ribs, and still, she let herself relax into him for one instant when his hand was clasping hers, his other behind her back. His eyes still open because he was watching her six.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Quiet enough that both their pride would survive it. And this time, when he pulled back, the thinnest blade of a smile widened his mouth.

“Anytime, V.”

#

Veronica walked into Comrade Quacks with quite a bit less bravado than she’d entered Weevil’s chop shop. It was still early in the day, and the place wasn’t technically open, but she knew bartenders and she knew the alley door would be unlocked for smoke breaks. So that’s where she left Logan, with a kiss and specific instructions, while ignoring his sympathetic sideways look.

She also didn’t give him the “I told you so” he’d earned from his voicemail, predicting she’d start to suspect Nicole. A girl could only take so much groveling in one day. She hitched up her messenger bag. “Cowboy up, Mars.”

Only half the lights were on, the cardboard character cutouts and bright decorations draping with an ironic poignancy across the shadows. A slim white guy was behind the bar, gauged ears, dark eyes, and sharp bangs, moving through his prep work with slight, graceful movements. She wondered if he was the one who’d helped Nicole give her desk such a vigorous workout. Guilt washed over Veronica at the reminder of her eavesdropping, and when the bartender flicked his eyes across her and allowed a bare nod of greeting, she didn’t stop to press for more conversation.

Instead, she mounted the steps to Nicole’s office with heavy feet, but the other girl came down before she could get all the way to the lion’s den.

“I come in peace,” Veronica joked. “And with gifts. Can we talk?”

Nicole gave her a cold look and stalked past her. But she stopped at the bar and took a bar stool, so Veronica took the seat next to her.

“Look, I’m not saying I was right to do what I did.”

Nicole laughed. “Oh, you so fucking are. If you start like that, that’s the only goddamn thing you’re saying.”

“It’s not,” Veronica said quietly, and let the silence stand until the other woman looked over at her. “I wanted to know because if _I_ suspect you, the police will start to suspect you, and when that time comes, I want to be able to help shield you, because I believe you’re innocent.”

“Yeah, thanks so much for that.”

Veronica bit the inside of her cheek until the urge for sarcasm passed. Made a mental note to ask Logan if he’d learned a trick for that that didn’t leave the taste of blood in your mouth.

“Why did you sell this place?”

Nicole scoffed and gestured to the bartender, who poured her a cup of coffee and dumped two jiggers of bourbon into it, then a dash of walnut bitters. “You think I like getting wankers drunk for a living? I have to stay as drunk as they are all spring break just so I won’t kill any of them. It’s not exactly what I wanted to be doing when I grew up.”

“But you acted like you cared that they were shutting down businesses on the boardwalk. Even though you’d already been secretly bought out.”

“I do care!” Nicole tossed her a nasty look and gulped back a shot of her spiked coffee. “Just because I don’t want to own a bar all my life doesn’t mean I want a bunch of high rises along the beach, or for those rich assholes to win.” She sent her a nasty look. “You’re a cynical bitch and you still care about this town. Why couldn’t I?”

“Touché.” Veronica tilted her head, acknowledging the point. “Look, I don’t have a great track record with trusting people. You don’t know this, but telling you about the bug, pulling it, it was a step forward for me.” She slipped a hand in her bag and hit a button on her phone.

“Your step forward sucks.”

Veronica winced. “I know. I…wish I could take it back, but that’s hindsight and guilt talking. And I doubt you care how sorry I actually am, so instead, I brought you a peace offering.”

Nicole glanced at Veronica’s bag, around at the empty, dimly lit bar. “So far, it sucks, too.”

The alley door banged, and Logan walked in, carrying a four-foot long, tree-trunk sized box propped up on one massive shoulder.

“Hmm, he’s pretty,” Nicole mused, “but how long do I get him for? A day? Because that bug was more like a week’s worth of full service.”

“Ha ha,” Veronica said dryly, hoping like hell that was a bluff.

When Logan got closer, he smiled in that warm, friendly way he hadn’t mastered until his mid-twenties. “Nicole.”

She smiled back. “Ah, so the elephant returned.”

Logan’s smile disappeared and he bent his knees to set the box up against the bar.

“Have you been telling that story again? You’re not the tusk, Veronica.” Turning away from Nicole, he stepped up to Veronica and brushed a strand of hair back from her face. “The tusk is our insecurities. That gnawing fear that if anything’s good, somebody will take it away. The poacher is the self-sabotaging behavior that becomes our greatest enemy, trying to protect ourselves and only making things worse. Without the insecurity of the tusks, the enemy doesn’t have anything to prey on. You’re the elephant.” He slipped a hand around the back of her neck and kissed her forehead, softly. “You’re not the damn tusk.”

Veronica swallowed, and tried not to argue with him. She was pretty fucking sure she was the tusk. But maybe if she groveled enough, bit her cheek often enough, and tried hard enough, she wouldn’t gore him. She caught his hand as it was slipping away from her neck, and held it hard.

The ghost of a smile slipped across Logan’s face in the instant before he turned away from her. Anyone but a trained investigator would probably have missed it. Lucky for her, she was born into the right profession to not miss something as precious as that tenth of a smile.

“I’m not condoning what she did,” he said to Nicole. Veronica bit her cheek, and tried not to take the disclaimer personally. “But you should know, if Veronica cares enough to start suspecting you of crimes, it means she likes you enough to be afraid you’re going to let her down.”

Veronica’s fingers tensed, and Logan’s grip gentled. But he didn’t let go.

“Oh, I would let her down.” Nicole flicked her hand casually. “If we were friends. Which we’re not.”

He smiled, and she didn’t know if she hated him for looking so sympathetic to Nicole, of if she loved him for it. “I’ll be in the truck.” He kissed Veronica’s fingers, and headed for the alley door with his long, easy strides.

Veronica pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth so Nicole wouldn’t see her swallow.

The bar owner nodded to the box. “That’s about the size of a body. Who’d you bring me?”

Veronica smiled. “Speaking of violence, I thought you might like a heavy bag. Keep those punching muscles up to speed. Maybe put a picture of my face on it, do double duty.”

“Ah.” Nicole was smiling. Veronica wasn’t sure if she should read into it.

_Grovel more._

“Look, I know I’m a fuck up,” she said. “But I’d like us to be friends. I…feel a little out of synch with my old friends. I love them, but all they want to talk about are subway tile remodels and how to get your kid into the fanciest daycare.” Veronica glanced away, tried to drag her eyes back to Nicole’s. She cleared her throat and pretended she didn’t feel terrifically awkward. “I felt like we clicked.”

Nicole looked up at the ceiling. Finished her mug of coffee. Veronica intercepted a sharp look between the dark-eyed bartender and Nicole.

“I’m not really a forgive and forget kind of person.”

“Hmm, well, I’m not really an ‘admit that I’m wrong and apologize’ type, so…”

Without being asked, the bartender brought a coffee-bourbon-bitters combo to Veronica, too, and Nicole tried to hide her smile.

“I think I know my bartender’s vote.” She cleared her throat and flicked an impassive-eyed glance at Veronica’s left hand. “So, if we’re trying out this whole friends thing again, you wanna tell me about that new rock you’re lugging around?”

“Ah, this old thing?” She wagged her fingers so the track lighting caught the stone and zig-zagged rainbows across the bar top. A dopey smile tried to rise to her face and she hid it behind a sardonic twist of the lips. “Brand-new development. Gotta hide it from my daddy before I go to work. Feels like middle school all over again.”

“Because he doesn’t approve?” Nicole’s eyebrow arched pretty high.

Veronica took a sip of her spiked coffee—dark, delicious, complex—and relaxed a touch on her stool. “Believe it or not, that Zen Navy Ken doll of a man was the only one of my boyfriends who Dad ever forbid me to see. Now, the two of them lecture me in unison.” She rolled her eyes. “It’d be adorable if it wasn’t so annoying.”

Nicole snorted. “So why hide the ring?”

“Mostly so Dad doesn’t accidentally trigger a hidden bomb, while he’s dancing his celebratory jig.”

Nicole laughed, and they both sipped in silence for a moment. “Don’t bug me again, or I’ll make you regret it.”

“Yes, well, the benefit of being friends with me is that I’ve always done something worse,” Veronica said, giving Nicole back the words she’d once said herself.

Nicole lifted her drink, and their mugs met in the middle with a ringing _clink_ of perfect understanding.


	3. Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I made a few adjustments to the wedding scene to turn it more to my liking. I was especially not charmed by Veronica’s vows. Apologies to anyone who liked the dress, I do have my own weird taste about things.

“Parker’s husband, he takes up with a blackjack dealer,” Logan said to his therapist, Jane. “She said it was like waking up with a stranger.” He pushed his thumbs deep into the stress ball he was holding.

That’s what it was like with Veronica, sometimes. He could finish nearly every sentence out of her mouth, had known her since she was a young innocent kid, through all the hardest times of her life, and most of his. But since he proposed, they’d been moving around each other in the house like they’d been dating six months and they were still embarrassed to brush their teeth with the bathroom door open. What if he married her and she kept pulling away like that?

Hell, what if being married made her pull away for good? Veronica did better with space, and there wasn’t a whole lot of wiggle room involved in, “Till death do us part.”

“What I’m interested in,” Jane said, “is you following this ex-girlfriend out to the parking lot. I mean, you’re there to get a marriage license. But you leave the building to hear the sad story of an ex-girlfriend.”

 _Feeding his doubts._ Jane had pointed it out to him before, how he braced for people to push him away, and went looking for evidence that they wanted to. Expected, always, for them to abandon him the way his family and even Veronica had—for nearly a decade if not forever. Jane was always good about pointing out all the cues he missed, the good ones that meant people cared about him and would stay.

She leaned forward. “Why do you think you did that?”

It wasn’t just what she was thinking, though. Wasn’t just that he was looking for reasons to distrust Veronica. It was that marriage, to him, was this safe, quiet space where he could have a family again. One that chose him and didn’t _want_ to leave him. But he wasn’t young enough to think anything on earth was that purely good.

“I guess I just want to go into this with my eyes wide open.”

“You’ve been talking about wanting to marry Veronica for a long time. Well, here you are.”

“Here I am,” he echoed quietly, shame flashing through him, because he was in his therapist’s office rather than the courthouse. Wondering, even today, if she’d really keep wanting him for their whole lives. Or if one day he’d roll over and see a stranger who had decided she liked the blackjack dealer better. People had made him promises before. Why the fuck did he think one sealed with diamonds would mean any more?

“The dog who caught the car,” Jane teased, and he looked up, surprised that her thoughts had been going in a different direction than his.

A smile tugged at his cheeks. It was the impossible dream, and he really had pulled it off. Despite decades, continents, bloodshed. Nobody would have ever said Veronica Mars was the kind of girl who could be caught. But she’d let him catch her. _Him._

His throat tightened, thinking of what she’d said about Leo, how it’d been so long since she’d been attracted to another man that when it happened, it had caught her by surprise. How, in the end, it hadn’t meant anything and all she wanted was what they already had together. His chest felt bigger, the pride of it something secret, like he never wanted anyone else to see how fucking great it felt to hear her say that to him.

“Are you sure it’s what you want?” Jane asked.

He looked up. There had never been any question, not ever. Whether the institution of marriage was broken, whether he and Veronica were too broken...it didn’t really matter, not in the end. There would never be anyone else for him but her. Veronica, for all her hatred of talking about feelings, said it best.

_It’s practically already done._

And then he remembered how she’d proposed to him, in the bedroom when he dug the ring out again.

_Please marry me. I can’t stand the thought of ever being with anybody else._

Neither could he.

He pushed to his feet. “Sorry, I know the hour’s not up. But I’ve got somewhere I need to be.”

Jane smiled. “Congratulations in advance.”

He shouldered his bike bag and grinned at her on his way out. “Thanks.”

#

As he jogged into the courthouse lobby, the last thing he expected to see was Veronica’s face, frantic with worry. Well, no, that dress was the last thing he expected to see. Where the fuck had she gotten that thing? He’d always figured Veronica could look hot even in a burlap sack but that dress really put the theory to the test. The expression, though, was a close second in terms of surprise.

“Hold on, I’m coming! Let’s do this thing.”

He grinned, crossing the room, but the closer he got, the paler Veronica appeared. He hadn’t seen her look that freaked since the night he came home early and she accepted his proposal by proposing back. Did that mean she’d been in another gunfight? But no, she didn’t look guilty, or cagey. She looked…wrecked.

“What?” he asked.

“We thought you weren’t coming!”

He’d worried when he’d seen the time, knowing most likely Veronica’s case would run late, but if it hadn’t, that she would definitely assume the worst if he showed up late. But he’d already headed that off, texting from Jane’s office half a mile away before he even got on the bike. So that couldn’t be it.

“I’m four minutes late! And I already pre-apologized.”

“With a text that said ‘Sorry’?” Her voice rose sharply and the justice of the peace backed away.

“Uh, I’ll give you two a couple of minutes.”

“No, stay right there.” Logan turned back to Veronica. “I texted ‘Sorry, I’m running a few minutes late.’”

“Well, this is what I got.” She turned her phone around and he read the single, incriminating word and cringed, meeting her eyes.

“I can see how that could be confusing,” he admitted. If this was their first test of married communication, he damn well intended to pass with flying colors. “I dictated the text, I blame Siri.” While unlocking his bike from the rack, too, and he probably should have double-checked it but he’d been gauging if he had enough time to race home and change.

The original plan had been to get married in his dress whites but in the end, there hadn’t been enough time and he’d had to settle for the spare blazer he kept in his gym locker, since it was on the way.

He stepped forward and caught her arms, squeezing gently. He hadn’t meant to scare her, but _damn._ She had actually shown up, and she looked…terrified at the idea that he might have backed out. Not relieved.

He grinned. She really _did_ want to marry him.

“But I’m here now. There’s no place I’d rather be.” He rubbed his hands softly up and down her arms, waiting until a smile started to soften her face, too.

He wanted her to trust him. It was all he’d ever wanted, and when that happy light came back into her eyes he beamed so hard it felt like new creases were forming in his cheeks. Reforming his face to show the marks of a new, happier life ahead.

Keith and Wallace swapped a look and both men relaxed, nodding like this made sense. Logan discerned he might have been in a bit of trouble, before, but he was maybe out of the hot water now.

“Excellent,” the justice of the peace said. “Follow me.”

Veronica set off with impressive haste and Keith hung back to clap Logan on the shoulder.

“Good thing you came through, son. I’d hate to shoot a man on his wedding day.”

“Isn’t that the whole fun of a shotgun wedding?”

“I think we all know if anybody was holding the shotgun at this wedding, it would have been you.”

Logan shrugged, in too good of a mood to deny it. “Hey, but isn’t it nice that it didn’t come to that? Shotgun really ruins the lines of the jacket.” He smoothed his blazer, grinning some more as they filed outside into the garden.

“It is nice. It was touch and go there, a couple of times.” Keith smiled knowingly, and Logan could tell they were both thinking back to the same moment.

He’d never told Veronica about it. It had been the week of the first bombing, the week when he’d first proposed, and Veronica had sent him by the office with a set of bugs that Keith needed. He could still remember every word that had passed between them, as clearly as if he had recorded them with that very same bug.

_Keith had taken the bug, and given him an odd, probing look. “You know, Veronica told me what happened with you two. With the proposal.”_

_“Yeah.” Logan didn’t know what to say. Sure as fuck didn’t want to talk about the love of his life rejecting him in favor of a city council meeting, of all things._

_“For what it’s worth, I’ve never seen her love anyone more,” Keith said plainly._

_Logan looked away, and swallowed._

_“Not even me, and I’m a prince.”_

_Logan chuckled. “But she’s still not going to marry me. That’s what you’re trying to break to me easy, right?”_

_Keith squeezed his shoulder. “I don’t think I ever told you this, but it puts my mind at ease to know she has you. To take care of her, even when she doesn’t know she needs it.” He left his hand on Logan’s shoulder a second longer, dropping his voice. “You okay, son?”_

_Logan cleared his throat. “Been worse.”_

_“I expect that you have.” Keith studied him. “If you need anything, or even just want to get out and grab a drink, call me.”_

_Logan nodded._

It was interesting that for all his warnings and notable lack of reassurances about Veronica’s ability to commit, Keith didn’t look surprised to be here today, in front of an altar with the two of them. He didn’t even look disapproving, which Teen Logan would have marked down as falling just the far side of Never Gonna Fucking Happen.

Logan’s heart did the cardiac equivalent of a jump with heels clicking together when he saw the altar. Veronica looked back and grabbed his hand, her eyes bright and clear. It was funny, he had really thought _she_ was going to be nervous, and now that they were here, there wasn’t a hint of that. He wondered if he could sneak a kiss before the ceremony, or if that would use up the rest of their goodwill with the justice of the peace.

“Hey, don’t start without me, you bunch of dicks!” Dick Casablancas jogged up, wearing an ostentatious white suit with a Hawaiian-print tie. His eyes were red and a little swollen, but clear, like he’d been crying, but not drinking.

Logan stepped away from the altar. “Give me one second, guys.” He caught Dick and pulled him aside, frowning. “Man, what are you doing here? I told you not to worry about it. They just found your dad’s body, for God’s sake.”

“Dude, you came to check on me even though you were on your way to get your fucking marriage license.” Dick nailed him with a level look from under the sweep of his styled bangs. “This is what bros do. Besides, I’d much rather be here, watching you charm Veronica fucking Mars all the way to the fucking real-ass altar. Better that than be planning a funeral for my dick dad who dicked people around his whole dick-head life.” His voice got a little rough, and he stopped to clear his throat, flicking his hair back. “I think—I think if I’d spent more time with you rather than him in the first place, I might have been a better person, you know?”

Logan reached out and gripped his shoulder, squeezing hard. Waiting for him to steady.

His friend cracked a shaky smile. “But mostly I need a picture of this epic ‘I told you so’ you got over me. Not in a million years did I think you’d pull off getting her here…and in a white dress, too.”

“Easy, judgy,” Veronica said, apparently done pretending she wasn’t listening in. “You don’t have any more right to wear white than I do, and yet here you are…”

Logan pulled his friend into a quick, hard hug, and didn’t ask if he was okay. That was the easiest way to get somebody to lose their shit in public after their crooked father got murdered, as they both knew all too well. “Glad you’re here,” he said instead, and Dick just nodded and shoved him toward the altar.

He gestured at Veronica. “Do your thing, Ronnie. Making my boy the happiest man in the world and all that. Never been a better day for it.” He coughed a little, then folded his hands in front of him, and Veronica’s eyes softened in that almost imperceptible way before her lashes swept down and her mouth twitched with indecision.

He could tell she wanted to say something about Dick’s dad. But instead she just nodded, and sent Dick a wink. “If I’d known you were coming, I would have let you be the flower girl.”

He broke out in a grin at that, and Logan took his place at the altar again.

“Marriage is a sacred covenant between two people,” the justice began. “And though it may be sorely tested by illness, circumstance, or hardship…”

“I should have had him add deployment to the list,” Veronica whispered, poking him in the side.

“Yet through the application of honesty, commitment, and sacrifice, two people may yet persevere and find great happiness in binding their lives together.”

“And heroism,” Logan said under his breath. “Should have had him file that in the h’s next to honesty, because according to Principal Clemmons on the radio, you’ve got plenty of heroism to spare.” He winked to let her know he wasn’t mad. She looked abashed for a minute, but a bit of a smile peeked out, just like it always did when he worked a case with her and figured something out a step before she did. She hated it when he was quicker than she was, but he knew she kind of liked it, too.

He squeezed her hands and the justice of the peace gave up on making speeches, sending them a dirty look as he skipped ahead to the vows.

“Do you, Logan, take Veronica as your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.” His grin only broadened, remembering her teasing in the hallway about knowing his lines, when she asked him if he still had the ring.

“And do you, Veronica, take Logan as your lawfully wedded husband?”

She tilted her head and drawled, “Depends. Did we write keeping those abs into the pre-nup?”

“Dude.” Dick sighed. “Chicks and the fucking abs, man. Never fails.”

The justice of the peace looked very tired.

But Logan just tugged her in close so she fell against his chest and laughed as he dropped a kiss to the tip of her nose. “You loved me before I had abs, sugarpuss.”

“Ah, damn.” She slapped his chest playfully. “You’re right. Okay then. In sickness and in health, with abs and without, till death do us part…and if that comes as a result of the orders of the US Navy, I reserve the right to retaliate in full.”

They were standing so close that both their bodies shook with Logan’s laughter, even though he really was doing his best to keep it contained.

“Are those _all_ your amendments to your legal vows?” asked the justice of the peace, his voice tart.

“Not quite,” Veronica said, and wrapped her arms up high around Logan’s neck.

“I wasn’t expecting quite this much PDA at a wedding,” Keith grouched.

Logan pointed at him in warning. “Quiet in the peanut gallery or I’ll go full Bridezilla up in here.”

Veronica’s eyes locked on his, and she didn’t respond to any of the jokes. A strange feeling passed over Logan, seeing her look so serious. His hand found her waist again, holding on tightly.

She took a little breath and her eyes glimmered with the hint of tears. She opened her mouth, closed it, then glanced to the side. Her fingers tightened on the back of his neck and he let her tug his head down so her lips brushed his ear. Her words were low, just between them. When he heard them, he understood.

“I will love you better than anyone else on this earth,” she vowed, her voice trembling. “For every day of my life, so help me God.” Then she pulled back and said louder, for everyone to hear, “I do.”

Logan swallowed, shaken by the depth of determination in her voice. Veronica didn’t like to make promises, because she always felt like they were daring fate to do its worst. And that one…that one was a big one.

“Jeez,” she teased, walking her fingers up his shirt front. “What’s a girl got to say to get a kiss around here?”

He laughed around the lump in his throat, then pulled her toward him and kissed her lips like he could seal their promises right into each other’s skin, where he could see them always. Dammit, he thought he couldn’t love her any more than he already did. But seeing her here, like this, her eyes shining and happy to be with _him_ , and saying shit like that?

He didn’t realize he’d lifted her right off her feet until Dick started to catcall and Keith said, “Okay. All right then. Save some for the honeymoon, kids.”

Wallace started clapping, and when they finally broke apart and turned to face their guests, he held a palm up and slapped Logan a high five before he really even believed it was happening.

“You lost me a fifty to my wife, man,” Wallace said. “And I ain’t never been so happy to lose money in all my life.”

Veronica gasped. “Fennel, you bet against me? Some kind of best man you are.”

“No shade,” he said, holding his hands up. “If you were ever gonna let anybody put a ring on it, we all knew it was going to be Logan. I just figured you’d rabbit on the first attempt, and it wouldn’t stick until the second try.”

Which was how Logan found out that Veronica hadn’t told Wallace she’d shot down his proposal.

He bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t laugh out loud. “Clearly you underestimated the allure of my many charms. No trial run needed.”

“Yes, we intend to be part of the one and done club when it comes to trips to the altar,” Veronica said, swinging their hands between them with a giddiness he hadn’t seen in her for years. “It’s just more economical that way. Weddings, divorces, all so expensive.”

“Sounds good to me.” He spun around Veronica, swapping one of her hands for the other and then lifting it to his lips. “It just wouldn’t make sense if a Mars missed an opportunity to bargain shop.”

Veronica froze, catching his meaning before anyone else. “Really? You’re going to change your name?” She searched his eyes. “Are you sure?”

He shrugged. “I’m nothing if not unconventional.” He tipped his head. “Or was it crazy? Doesn’t matter. What’s a guy got to do to get cake smashed in his face around here?”


	4. After the Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: It’s a little ridiculous how easy it is to fix this scene just by having Logan act IN CHARACTER. Take notes, Rob Thomas.
> 
> Song: “And I thought I loved you then” Brad Paisley
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81on1ZFE63w

“Why Sedona?” Veronica pulled more toiletries off the shelves, trying to remember what she’d need. God, it had been an embarrassingly long time since she’d left town.

“It’s caught my eye a few times when we were flying domestic training missions. It’s all mountains and plain desert and then BOOM these crazy red rocks coming up out of nowhere. It’s gorgeous from the air, like nothing else around. Don’t know much else about it.” Logan took out his phone, relaxed since he’d packed earlier in true Boy Scout style. “See, here it is right here. Sedona’s main attraction is its array of red sandstone formations.”

“Good. Second thing we’ll do when we get there.” She threw him a wink.

“It’s a seven-hour drive. Leave here by six, get there by two a.m.?”

“That’s eight hours, Einstein.”

“Plus one because they’re on Mountain Standard time. So there.”

“Oh shit, you’re right.” She flashed him a quick smile. The best thing about Logan was that he didn’t belabor the I told you so—not even on the wedding day that had made her happier than she ever imagined anything could. Several weeks after they could have had it if she’d listened to him.

His phone beeped and he pulled it out. “I’ve got to move the car, street cleaning.”

She watched his ass as he retreated to the kitchen. Maybe the _second_ best thing about Logan was that he didn’t belabor the I told you so. And thanks to her bone-headed idea to drive all night so they could start the honeymoon as soon as possible, she wasn’t going to get to enjoy the first best thing until 2 a.m. mountain time. Unless she engaged in a little multi-tasking…

She cranked on the water. “I’m going to take a shower!”

Logan flipped right around and came back. “I’ll join you.”

She draped her arms around his neck, smiling. “What about the car?”

He kissed her. “Clean streets versus a clean wife? I know where my priorities are at.”

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said you preferred clean over dirty,” she purred and his eyes went dark.

“Don’t get used to it.” He turned off the water. “And actually, forget the shower and don’t take off that dress.” He reached up under her skirt and she felt the tug and tickle as his warm fingers slid her panties off. “I thought there could be nothing better than Naked Veronica, but Veronica in a wedding dress and my ring…”

She scoffed and stepped out of her panties, walking backward to tug him toward the bed. “ _How_ can you find this dress sexy? I got it to infiltrate an Amish sewing circle for intel, when I was on that ridiculous case of the guy whose neighbors were secretly sterilizing his cows.”

“Why did you wear it to our wedding if you hate it?” Logan frowned, like he was really trying to follow this latest twist of her own particular brand of logic.

“I was going to get a new dress, do my hair, but I ran out of time with the whole—”

“Ah ah ah.” Logan raised a finger. “Please don’t tell me why you were a hero until at least tomorrow. I have a feeling it will kill my happy honeymoon glow.”

“Well, anyway, so I didn’t have time to shop because hero-ing, and this was the only thing in my closet that was white and non-slutty.”

“What exactly gave you the idea I don’t like your dresses slutty?” Logan stripped off his shirt and unzipped his pants.

“Bad judgment?” She watched the slow reveal of his legs. She’d never thought she was a leg woman, but the definition in Logan’s thighs was just insane. He took a step closer and she remembered what she’d been planning on telling him before he distracted her with the strip tease. “Do you want your wedding present now or later?”

“Depends.” His hand started traveling up her skirt. “Do I have to put my pants back on to get it? Because if I have to put my pants back on, I don’t want it that bad.”

“Nope, pants fully off.”

“Then hit me.”

She sucked in a breath as his talented fingers went to work between her thighs. “I uh…” She tried to focus. “I made an intake appointment with a therapist.”

He pulled back. “Veronica.”

“You look like you’re about to put your pants back on.” She pouted.

“I’m happy, don’t get me wrong.”

“You never put your pants back on when you’re happy.”

His mouth turned down a bit more, his eyes big and brown and so adorable it hurt a little to look at him. “I want you to do this for you, not for me.”

“I’d say I’d do it even if you weren’t around, but that’s a dirty lie. I would eat a lot of fried food and my only therapy would be White Russians and the Big Lebowski. But I keep seeing myself lately doing things and then regretting them, and I remember how you used to be the one doing that. After therapy, you found a way not to.” She toyed with the band of his boxer briefs, sliding her palms over the corded muscles of his lower back. “I don’t want to be like these impulsive assholes I’m always chasing down, haunted by their last bad decision.”

Especially not if the person to pay the price was going to be her husband. She didn’t say that part out loud, though.

Instead, she narrowed her eyes. “But I’m not going to _Jane._ I hate her, and I know that’s irrational, but even I know enough about therapy to know that’s not going to help me.”

His hands came up to cup her face, his whole body seeming to glow as he smiled down at her. “This has been the happiest day of my entire fucking life, you know that? You gave me that.”

She pinched his butt. “Oh, champ, we haven’t even made it to the honeymoon yet. Just wait until—”

_BOOM_

A shock wave of _something_ hit her. She crashed backward onto the bed, Logan’s weight hitting her full in the chest in the second before his arms came up around her face and he curled his whole body down, protecting hers. Her ears rang and in the next second, Logan rolled her off the bed and tucked behind the far side of it. There was something sharp under her kneecaps, like gravel. How had gravel gotten inside?

Logan ripped a handgun out of the nightstand, punched the buttons to release the trigger lock and threw the lock aside, crouching in front of her.

“Get shoes,” he told her tersely. “We’ve got to evacuate and there might be someone waiting outside. That first blast could have been the main attack, or it could just have been meant to smoke us out into the open. Also, the structure could be compromised.”

She shook her head, only now registering that all of _that_ must have been a bomb. The gravel was shining in the light, except it wasn’t gravel, it was glass, and the window was broken.

“What blew up?”

Logan darted across the room without bothering with the shoes he’d reminded her to put on. He scanned the scene from the side of the window, not exposing himself to possible sniper fire.

“It was your car.”

The dark note in his voice rippled goosebumps all along her arms. She hadn’t heard that tone of certain violence from Logan in years. It was times like this, when she saw him mostly naked and a large-caliber handgun at home in his hands, with his eyes promising to rain down violence on their enemies, that she remembered the Navy wasn’t all about pretty uniforms and unscheduled travel.

They’d trained Logan to kill. And God knew he’d been plenty dangerous even before that.

But the bomber was in jail so who would—It only took her a second to figure it out now that her head had cleared from the blast. 

“Fuck. It was the _backpack_. I can’t believe that idiot was riding around in my car all day with a bomb already set on a timer. What kind of a crazy…”

“We’ve got to go.” Logan stuffed his feet into sneakers and gave her a second set, keeping the pistol aimed safely at the ceiling. 

“We don’t have to go anywhere.” She caught his arm. “There’s not another bomb, and the guy who set it is already in custody. That was the one he was going to plant before I stopped him. Not at the high school—that one was for shock value. This one was for vengeance, so it was probably going to the frat house.” She tugged him close, trying to get a better look at the small cuts on his face. “Come here. You’re bleeding.”

“Jesus, _fuck_.” Now that the immediate danger had passed, his eyes went wild and he started to breathe hard. “That was in _your car_ , Veronica. That could have gone off while you were on your way to our fucking wedding.”

He raised his hands to scrub them through his hair, realized he was still holding the gun, and flicked the safety back on before he set it amongst the scatter of broken glass on the nightstand.

“Or while we were on our way home.” Black dots danced before her eyes as a fresh jolt of adrenaline went through her.

She could still picture Logan in the passenger seat, laughing at some dumb quip she’d made, totally ignorant of the backpack full of bomb she’d stupidly forgotten in her backseat because she was in a rush to make it to her wedding on time so he wouldn’t worry…

 _This._ This deep, blood-electrifying terror was exactly what had brought her to her senses about marrying him. Knowing that she’d never get enough time with him, even if he died holding her hand at the age of one hundred and sixty-four. 

Or today.

She yanked the covers back, sending glass flying across the room as she revealed the unsullied sheet.

“Veronica, not that I don’t appreciate the enthusiasm, but we need to…”

“Fuck it, we’ve done enough. The cops won’t be here for another few minutes and I need you now.” She cupped his face, pulling him close. “You could have died, Logan.” Her voice had roughened to a strangled sort of growl. “I _love_ you. This is the shit I should have been really scared of, all along. Not us growing apart and fighting over who gets the record collection. This. Please, just let me—.”

She reached for the zipper of her dress and couldn’t quite reach it. Before she started the contortions necessary to get it down, Logan spun her around and slowly slid the zipper open. His mouth followed the line of her exposed spine with soft, fervent kisses pressing a little too hard because they were both still shaking.

But she couldn’t stand not to see him and she could already hear sirens approaching. She turned around and then they were kissing like it was the last time, her fingers tearing at his boxer briefs.

“Ver—” He gasped. “It’s okay, we’re okay. I’m right—”

“ _Please_.”

He tossed her up onto the bed and came down over the top of her. “Breathe. I’ve got you.” He pulled her knee up beside his hip, his fingers almost electric where they caressed her over-sensitive skin. “Look at me.”

Her eyes wanted to dart all over the room, breaths wanted to catch and pant, but as soon as she found his dark, steady gaze, he filled her. In one strong, purposeful stroke that made her gasp, her lungs finally opening up again.

“There she is,” he murmured. A tiny smirk played over his face. “You know, this idea has a lot of merit over the more traditional methods of slapping a hysterical woman to snap her out of it.”

He gave her a sharp, quick pulse of his hips that sent pleasure rippling out through her in relaxing waves.

“You know, you’re in a surprisingly good mood for a man who just narrowly avoided being blown up.” She wrapped her legs around his hips and tilted up just a little so when he moved again—ah yes. Right there.

“Mmm, methinks that’s not the last detonation we’re going to see on this honeymoon,” he sing-songed, nibbling at her bottom lip as his hand snuck between them to thumb her clit.

“Oh no you didn’t.”

“Oh, yes I did.”

“Orgasm puns, Logan? Really?”

“It’s that or hysterical crying, and I think we both remember that’s not a good look on me. Take your pick.” His thrusts increased, each one coming into her bone-shatteringly hard. She caught a glimpse of his dark, intense eyes and she understood. It was all or nothing with them. Laughter or violent intensity. She wrapped her arms over his shoulders, feeling the power surging through him and into her with every stroke.

He was feeling it, too. The shock, the fear, the gut-dropping _what if_ and giddy _not today,_ just like she was.

It was a funny word, married. It had all those connotations of being tied together, combined somehow in a way that had always vaguely turned her off. But she got it, now. What it meant to have someone who was right there with you, in everything.

“I’m so lucky I found you,” she murmured, the words burning out of her throat, the ringing in her ears lending a sense of unreality to everything, like this was one more panicked dream. “I couldn’t _do_ this with anyone else.”

Logan pulled back with a wicked grin that lightened the knots in her heart. “Damn right you can’t do it with anyone else, Mrs. Mars.” He found her left hand and nibbled at her ring, then sucked her fingers into his mouth with a swirl of his tongue that made her forget all about cops and bombs and anything but the thick press of his cock. The way he knew exactly how to work her over until all her muscles were tensing and begging and then quivering with her climax. The way he laid his forehead just beneath her ear when he started to lose it, his breath going ragged and his thrusts getting hard and rough. The way his hands clung to hers when he came.

Her _husband._

The word made a different kind of sense when it was applied to Logan. She liked that he got his own word now, that it showed how he meant something different to her than any other person she’d ever met. That felt right.

She lay beside him, their hands still tangled together and his heavy ankle thrown across hers as they struggled to catch their breath, staring up at the broken window.

The door rattled under a knock. “Police! Open up, there’s been a bombing.”

“This again.” Veronica groaned. “Fuck, with all these statements, we’re not going to get to Sedona until five a.m.”

“Or later, considering we no longer own a car to drive with.”

“Good thing you got your pilot’s license.” She batted her eyelashes. “Want to rent us a plane instead, Maverick?”

“Only if you promise never to call me by that Hollywood idiot’s call sign. Then sure.” He hopped up and she sucked in a breath.

“Logan, the glass!”

“No worries, I’ve still got my shoes on. _Somebody_ couldn’t wait for me to get them off before she just had to have her way with me.” He waggled his eyebrows at her as he grabbed a robe out of the closet and leaned down to steal a kiss. “Take your time. I’ll keep the detectives busy so you can grab a shower and get dressed before you have to deal with them. Then we can trade and I’ll see about that plane rental.”

“Wait, you can seriously rent us a plane and just fly to Sedona?” She propped herself up on her elbows. “Why weren’t we going to do that in the first place?”

“You know how you always get horny when we go on long drives?”

“You’ve never complained before…”

He grinned. “Oh, and I am definitely not going to start now. But you can’t pull a plane over. So given that we’re now on Plan B, you’re going to have to keep your hands to yourself, Bobcat.”

The cops knocked on the front door again and Logan ducked out of the bedroom.

“No promises!” she called through the door between them, then lay back with a huff of air.

She’d done it. Caught the Sea Sprite bomber, and locked down the world’s most glorious husband, and the day’s only casualty had been a car.

_Not bad for a day’s work, Veronica Mars._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, 2 chapters of honeymoon action, in a separate fic in this series entitled "Never Enough Honeymoon"!


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